


Flirting with Death

by triggerswaggiehavoc



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Confusion, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff and Humor, Grim Reapers, Halloween, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Slow Build, lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 05:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21265958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triggerswaggiehavoc/pseuds/triggerswaggiehavoc
Summary: Never in his wildest dreams did Junhui expect to have a run-in with a grim reaper. Even in the dreams wilder than those, he never could've imagined that the grim reaper in question would be so handsome.





	Flirting with Death

Grim reapers must be completely unobtrusive to do their job. They say that if you happen to spot a reaper who’s come to take you, they won’t be able to do it until you’ve let them slip from your mind again. Junhui never thought about this superstition much growing up, maybe because he wasn’t worried enough about dying, but he remembers it in sudden force as he snaps awake in bed, skin prickling all up his arms. The clock is flashing red 3:39, but that’s not what has his attention.

“Who are you?” Barely any sound comes out when he whispers, and his throat feels freezing cold.

A figure looms over his bedside, unnervingly near, the black silhouette of shoulders and a head standing quiet against the dark of the walls. Frozen in the air, a hand curls toward him, arm fading back eerily into the humanoid shape of the shadow. Junhui tries to make out a face where he thinks one should be, but no matter how long his eyes take to adjust, nothing appears there. For a while, he and the shadow stay frozen in space. Then its hand slowly withdraws, and when Junhui blinks, it has disappeared completely. Pulling his blankets close around himself, he is almost sure he has just avoided death.

The next morning, Junhui isn’t sure how much he should relax. There’s a discomfort sitting pretty between his skin and his muscles that he’s having absolutely no luck shaking, and every time he turns his head, he looks for that shadowy form again, lit up by the risen sun. Maybe it would put his mind at ease to see whatever it was in the light, but there’s an equally high chance it’ll terrify him even more. Ideally, he’d stake out the couch all day. Unfortunately, he’s got errands to run.

Even at the supermarket, a hazy feeling sticks with him, like he’s watching his windshield fog up slowly and he can’t get the car to turn on. He gets distracted thumbing through boxes of cereal, forgets which one he was planning on buying. There’s a sensation like ice on the back of his neck, like the very tips of icicles just dangling to brush against him, and no matter how much he readjusts his jacket, it doesn’t go away. When he looks at his hands, they’re shaking. Maybe he should just have a coffee.

The little café across the street is almost never crowded, and today is no exception. That eking chill sticks around Junhui as he orders, then as he sits, then as he drinks his large caramel latte with extra foam. He glances around at the few other customers, most of whom stare into their laptop screens, and freezes solid when he spots one already watching him.

He’s very much Junhui’s type—broad shoulders, confident jut to his chin. Before Junhui can process the eye contact, the other guy looks very conspicuously away, then back again for a brief second before deciding at last to just stare hard at the wall with his eyebrows lowered. Junhui then notices that he doesn’t have a phone or computer to busy himself with, and alongside, that he doesn’t even have a coffee. The skin on his back prickles up under his shirt, and even though he chugs the steaming coffee, he still feels like he might freeze to death.

Another fifteen minutes, he just sits there, watching the stranger refuse to avert his gaze from the far wall, neck so stiff that a vein pops out on the side of it. Something is definitely suspicious here, and Junhui isn’t sure how ready he is to figure it out, but he stands up anyway. Stuffing his shaking hands in his pockets, he shuffles toward the corner where the guy sits. He’s even cuter close up. As Junhui nears, he stiffens visibly. It doesn’t give him a good feeling.

“Hey,” Junhui says, and the man jolts. His ears are a suffering red. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Huh?” His voice is unexpectedly gravelly, sounds like he just woke up after sleeping for a week. There is a second where he looks like he’s concentrating hard, then he looks at Junhui. Then immediately to the tabletop. “Probably not.”

“You were staring at me, though.” Unbidden, Junhui sits down. The guy’s hands draw into himself and lace together.

“I wasn’t.” He gulps hard, but doesn’t look at Junhui again. “You were staring at me.”

“What’s your name?”

“Sorry?”

“Your name.”

“It’s… Jihoon.” Jihoon’s jaw clenches when he says it. Through the fear gripping his body, Junhui finds the nerve to grin. His mind spins in circles.

“Ah, that’s right.” He scratches his chin. “We took a class together, I think. Intro to Psych.”

Jihoon’s eyes widen, and he looks back at Junhui. This time, he holds it. What a cold gaze. “Yeah,” he says, “maybe that was it.”

“Sorry for screwing up the final project,” Junhui says, working his way to a winning smile. The goosebumps standing all over his shoulders start to subside, just in time for new ones to take their place when the corners of Jihoon’s mouth turn up.

“Forget about it,” he says. Of course, Junhui can’t forget about something that never happened.

“Funny meeting you again here,” he says.

“Really funny,” Jihoon says back.

“Must be fate.” When Jihoon’s eyes wax wider again, Junhui’s chest burns with a surge of boldness. “Can I have your number?”

“My number? Uh…”

It’s cathartic to watch him scramble, even if only for a little while. Junhui is well beyond any sense of doubt now, though it doesn’t do much to make him feel at ease. Rather, his chest lights up with a whole different breed of nerves now, splintering right through his ribs and churning his stomach. At the very least, he supposes this will make it easier to keep watching and ward his death off a little longer. Nobody ever told him reapers could be so handsome.

Jihoon looks markedly uncomfortable every time Junhui smiles at him. He tugs at the collar of his turtleneck and aims his eyes at the ground while they walk into the movie theater, ears still that amazing pink. Junhui doesn’t feel that terrifying chill all over his body anymore, even though he knows he probably should. Watching Jihoon squirm under his gaze is a kind of medicine.

“Stop looking at me,” Jihoon says, trying to pull his collar up past his cheeks. Junhui wonders whether grim reapers have to buy clothes or they can just make them materialize. Either way, Jihoon sure knows how to dress himself for someone who isn’t really someone at all.

“Why?” Junhui asks. He edges a little closer, and just as he expects, Jihoon backs away just as much. “You look nice.”

“No, I don’t.” He holds his hands over his ears a moment, but Junhui spots the tender pink of them anyway. “Just quit looking.” Junhui knows he won’t, but he lets Jihoon take his silence as concession.

After buying a bucket of popcorn, they shuffle into the theater. Jihoon seems more comfortable under the dark immediately, squeezing into the furthest corner in the rear and drenching himself in the shadow. With the lights dimmed, Junhui can’t make his features out anymore, but he imagines the color in his skin has washed out a little. It irritates him, somehow.

From the beginning, Junhui decides not to pay attention to the movie, but it’s hard to find Jihoon in the dark. Maybe his eyes are just having trouble adjusting, but he could almost convince himself Jihoon has disappeared. It isn’t like Junhui hasn’t seen him do it before. He treats himself to a handful of popcorn before swinging his arm into the adjacent seat. Empty.

What a waste of money to leave so early, but Junhui hauls himself out of the seat and walks right back out of the theater anyway. In the hallway, he feels a frigid presence looking at him from somewhere, and he knows it must be Jihoon, but he can’t tell where he’s watching from. He puts his head on a swivel while he traces his steps back to the lobby, and soon enough, his eyes fall on Jihoon in a far corner. Now again, he averts his gaze the second Junhui catches it, as if there’s any way to explain it away this time.

“Hey,” Junhui calls, jogging up. Jihoon tenses like he’s about to run for it, but his body stays frozen until Junhui reaches him. “Why’d you leave?”

Jihoon’s lips move in small ways, searching for a way to answer, but he doesn’t manage to get any words out. Slowly, he straightens his posture, but he keeps his eyes low to avoid Junhui’s. More of his skin his pink now, rosy beyond just the ears.

“If you had to go to the bathroom,” Junhui says, “you could’ve just said so.”

A stiff smile cracks Jihoon’s lips. “Sorry,” he says. They both avoid mentioning the obvious fact that he could not possibly have slipped past Junhui unnoticed if he were walking like a person would have, could not possibly have covered that amount of distance so quickly on his legs. Maybe Jihoon is too caught up pretending to be human to realize it’s very obvious he isn’t.

“Let’s go back and watch the movie,” Junhui says, and when he does, he grabs Jihoon by the wrist and tugs him along. His skin is so cold that it draws pinpricks all over Junhui’s palm, but he can’t afford to let go. Jihoon’s feet drag on the carpet beside him while they walk, and Junhui hazards another glance over. “What’s wrong?”

Barely enough to be noticed, Jihoon’s lower lip shakes, and his eyes fix unmoving on his wrist where Junhui’s fingers wrap around it. “Nothing,” he says, not blinking. There is so much more color under his skin now, and it makes Junhui’s hand burn even worse. “I’m coming.”

Junhui’s grip is death tight by the time they sit back down, and he can’t bring himself to let it up one bit.

They are in Junhui’s room. The scene of the first crime, Junhui likes to think of it. Jihoon’s black turtleneck is pulled up nearly to his ears, and he stares so firmly at the wall Junhui wonders if he’s disappeared again and replaced himself with an uncannily accurate statue. It’s a mystery how Junhui got him to come here at all. Jihoon seems to lose function when Junhui makes physical contact, so maybe he’s let it get to his head.

As soon as Jihoon’s lips part, Junhui can hear the words he’s about to say. “Stop saying that,” he says. Jihoon’s eyes widen a bit, and he chances a look at Junhui’s face. Only for a second. Then it’s right back to the wall.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

“I wasn’t.”

“I’m going to keep looking at you,” Junhui says, “because you’re hot.” Jihoon’s shoulders tense up. “Alright?”

“You sound weird,” Jihoon says, eyes roaming to a different part of the room that still isn’t Junhui. The ceiling this time. “You sound stupid.”

“No, I don’t.” Junhui shifts closer, elbows sliding across the coffee table between them. Almost close enough to touch. “You do.”

“Huh?”

“Aren’t you the one who’s always looking at me?”

The air freezes thick around them. Jihoon raises a hand to his neck. “Uh, no, I—” He coughs, squeezes his eyes shut. “I’m not. I don’t—”

“You do.” Another inch closer. Junhui’s chest is pounding in a whole library of ways. “Every time I look at you, you’re looking at me first. And then you look away.” He reaches out to touch a fingertip to Jihoon’s hand. It feels like ten thousand static shocks.

“That’s not true,” Jihoon blurts, focus airtight on their two hands. He holds his breath when Junhui shifts his palm closer and laces their fingers together.

“It is,” Junhui tells him. He trains his eyes on Jihoon, bends his head further until Jihoon has no choice but to look at him. There’s a sort of pressure behind his eyes, something like the pounding of a fist against a door, but nothing budges. Junhui bites down a smile.

“Isn’t,” Jihoon whispers.

“You like me, don’t you?” It’s almost worth having his soul reaped in the night to see the way Jihoon colors so vividly. Junhui really does think it’s a shame he had to be so good-looking. He’s sure flirting with death was never supposed to be this literal.

“No way,” Jihoon coughs. He still can’t hold Junhui’s gaze, though. It’s too hard to resist teasing him.

“Don’t you?” Junhui says, grip on Jihoon’s hand tightening. There’s something like frozen magma flowing into him from the crooks of his fingers, and the air pressure in here is insane. He feels his bones trying to shatter. “I like you, Jihoon.”

Jihoon’s entire body seems like it’s vibrating. “No, you don’t,” he says, and Junhui can’t quite read anything about him. The line of his lips, the quiver of his voice. In fact, Junhui barely feels like he can see Jihoon at all, like he might be fading into the walls and disappearing altogether. Now more than ever, he can’t afford to look away.

“I do,” he says. “You know that I do.”

In the moment, Junhui feels like he’s disintegrating, too. Like the two of them are puffing off together in a swirl of whatever power let Jihoon run away before. This time, Junhui won’t let him slip through his fingers.

He keeps his eyes open, almost unblinking, and he isn’t sure whether he is moving forward or Jihoon is, but when their lips touch, he imagines this is what dying feels like. Every cell in his body is freezing and burning together, every heartbeat amplified to infinity. In the midst of the noise, he feels that his chest may have gone completely still, but he holds on, fingernails pressing into the nooks between Jihoon’s knuckles. No matter what, he won’t close his eyes.

It’s strange, Junhui thinks, that’s he’s gotten so used to this penetrating cold feeling. He can hardly remember the last time he felt very warm, and it almost irritates him that he’s not very bothered by it. Jihoon’s arm trails along his side in lazy circles, fingertips worming into the holes of his sweater.

“Say, Jihoon,” Junhui says. Jihoon hums acknowledgement. “Will you ever be able to kill me now?”

Against his chest, Jihoon goes rigid. Junhui can’t help the small laugh that sneaks out. “What are you talking about?” Jihoon asks.

“I know already.”

“You don’t know anything,” Jihoon mutters, quick. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I saw you in my room,” Junhui says. “I’m sure it was you.”

A stiff beat of silence. “Well, I’ve been over—"

“I’ve known the whole time,” Junhui tells him. Jihoon doesn’t say anything. “Can you still kill me or not?”

“It’s not my job to kill you,” Jihoon says, sighing, “but no, I can’t.” He shrinks himself in a bristly way, like he’ll sting Junhui if he dares to move. Without looking, Junhui is sure he;s cherry red. “Since you kissed me.”

“Is that the rule?”

“Well, it’s not… What did you think it was?”

“I thought as long as I kept looking at you, I’d be safe,” Junhui says. “Is that wrong?”

“It’s kind of… It’s not that it’s wrong.” Jihoon shifts away, and now he looks at Junhui intently. To think he could muster that sort of eye contact. “But it’s not really that simple.”

“But now that I kissed you?”

“I can’t take you.” Jihoon’s mouth hovers around a frown, eyebrows low. “Reapers have a thing with contact. We can’t be seen, but we really can’t…” He holds his hand in the air and wiggles his fingers around. “It nullifies.”

Junhui doesn’t put much effort into tamping down the smile that blooms on his lips. “I see,” he says. “So I’m invincible now.”

“Somebody will still take you,” Jihoon says, falling to his back again. “It just can’t be me.”

“But I want it to be you.”

“You shouldn’t have kissed me, then.” He inhales, but holds on to it. Junhui can almost make out the sound of him blinking at the ceiling. “Why did you kiss me? If you didn’t know.”

“I wanted to,” Junhui says. His hind finds its way back to Jihoon slowly and curls against his hip.

Jihoon breathes out through his nose, and it’s loud, a sound like a hurricane waking up in the morning. “This is ridiculous,” he says. “How could you know the whole time?”

“Just a feeling.” Junhui closes his eyes briefly, feels the air around them. “You weren’t very subtle.”

“I wasn’t?”

“There is no human being that behaves the way you did,” Junhui says. Jihoon sighs again, much longer this time, heavier on the fatigue.

“I’m not cut out to be a reaper,” he says softly. “They’re going to get rid of me after this.”

“Just don’t go back,” Junhui says before he’s thought about it enough. The air settles on top of his chest like dust, thick creeping into his lungs. Beside him, Jihoon doesn’t budge an inch, just keeps staring at the ceiling like he usually does. Junhui swallows the wad of sand in his throat. “Stay here.”

“And do what?” Jihoon asks. “You already got what you wanted. You’re still alive.”

“What I want is for you to stay.”

“Why?”

Even Junhui isn’t so sure. He doesn’t want to believe he’s so shallow that Jihoon’s looks being his type can override the fact that he is an actual messenger of death, but he has an equally hard time justifying the warm way he’s come to think of him. It’s different now knowing there’s no chance Jihoon could seize him when he’s unaware, but it’s not the kind of different that makes Junhui breathe a sigh of relief. Rather, it’s the kind that makes him feel like he’s just taken the first few steps of a marathon. His chest is already heaving.

“Because I just want you to,” he says. “That’s it.”

“You’re not making sense.”

“I don’t know, Jihoon.” Junhui flips to face him, grips Jihoon by the shoulder so only his eyes can run away. They don’t. It’s molten in here. “I just think there’s more to life than avoiding death.”

Jihoon snorts. “Like what?”

All of a sudden, something hot floods Junhui’s chest, burns him up from the inside. What an unfamiliar feeling after so long. The sound of his own heartbeat is echoing off the walls, shaking through the windows. Every inch of his skin is so fervently alive he can hardly bear to feel it, and he holds tighter to Jihoon’s shoulder, eyes glowing with newfound light.

“Maybe if you stick around, we can find out.”

Jihoon laughs, almost, a leaf skittering across the pavement. He rests a palm on Junhui’s cheek, and it is just as frigid as ever, but it feels like the perfect in-between, so close to the cusp of being human. When he kisses Junhui, it still feels like birth and death, the sun and the moon whipping him into jelly. If this is what dying is like, maybe next time he won’t work so hard evading it. So long as Jihoon is the harbinger, at least, it might not be so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

> ummmmmmmmm HAPPY HALLOWEEN..... i'm sure it's still halloween somewhere lol.... i'm posting this literally so late bc i needed so badly to get it done and i Know this is an awful idea but i refuse to be stopped. anyway this is part of the spooktastic junhoon fest going on right now! just wanted to swooce in before nanowrimo starts so i have time to focus my brain. grim reaper lore here is based partly off the lovable one from goblin and mostly off the bullshit i came up with in my own brain so sorry if it doesn't make sense lol. anyway thanks so much for reading and HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!! tbh this could've been way longer but for everyone's sake let's be thankful it is so short. thanks again for reading lmfao see you again sometime. i am tired as hell


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